


Power of Will

by CasualDanger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-05-01 22:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualDanger/pseuds/CasualDanger
Summary: "Where is the White Wolf?" she asks, voice rough and low. She knows.Steve pauses and looks her in the eye, not done with the fight. "Gone for now," he says.Post-Infinity War fic I had to get outta my brain. It's not great, so read at your own discretion!!





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR.   
> Honestly, this is just a shitty stream of consciousness-type story that I had to get down and out of my head.

The end of the story is that they win, because this can't be it, and Steve says as much as soon as he can will his body up with a piece of his soul missing once more. Rhodey asks him once -- only once, desperate, angry, unequivocally  _lost --_ how he can still be so naive, how he can still be looking for a fight while they're standing on so much goddamn ash.

Steve, frazzled, in shock, lost as well but not as lost as he once was with those eyes on him, not as lost as he was trying to purge those moments from his mind, points shakily to the leaves and soil.

"That was Bucky," he says, "and if Bucky is dead, it can't be over, because Bucky can't die."

Rhodey doesn't ask again, not even when Steve stumbles past him into the clearing, trying to assess what is even still there. The field is in ruins; those left clutch at each other and check the dead that have not crumpled. Okoye materializes at his side, out of the woods herself, and tells him the king is gone.

"The king is gone for now," Steve says, "but the stones are unlike anything we've ever dealt with. There has to be a reversal."

"Where is the White Wolf?" she asks, voice rough and low. She knows.

Steve pauses and looks her in the eye, not done with the fight. "Gone for now," he says.

She nods, wills these paltry words to give her strength, and nods again. "I must look for the princess. You are gathering the others?" At his nod, she adds, "They will all need to rest. We can regroup at Shuri's lab to get them food and medicine." Okoye shoves off, a few Dora following her, limping and weary, but strong.

* * *

 

They don't plan that first night; instead, they watch the news and suffer --  it is somewhat of a catharsis now, to have feared truly losing for so long in some vague, nightmarish way, and to know now what it looks like. T'Challa, Sam, even that tree creature, they are all gone. But they are only gone for now, not forever. Bucky is with them, somewhere, and wherever Buck is, Steve will pull him back from it and bring him home. Simple as that. In truth, the only battle Steve has ever believed in is Bucky, from rescuing the 107th to fighting for the Winter Soldier's soul. It was never what Captain America was meant for, but there  _is_ no Captain America anymore, only Steve, and Steve would defy every law of nature there is to save Bucky, cosmic or not. It has become like breathing for him, the way it has always been like breathing for Bucky to protect Steve. 

Thor has been quiet, glued to the raccoon's side, some similar belief shared between them that this can't be it burning his mind, but he is hesitant to give it life and be wrong again. Natasha is similarly reserved, beaten back. She keeps looking for Wanda, her mind stuttering over the other's death. Somehow, Okoye can sense this on her, and whenever they pass each other, they share a glance and a nod, the bond of blood spilled out on the Wakandan border. 

They don't plan the second night, either. They help Shuri become queen, collect the dead, and watch the world try to reconcile its continuance after what feels like the end. There are two enhanced in New York, an unbreakable man and an unbeatable woman, still standing, and Stark Enterprises is working with them to help rescue who they can. No one in Wakanda moves; they are waiting for something. Steve's outright denial of the permanence of this situation has yet to wear off, but it hasn't yet hardened into resolve, either. His hands are still shaking, his mind still an endless loop of that disgusting Smithsonian exhibit --  _"Inseparable on both schoolyeard and battlefield, inseparable, inseparable, inseparable, inseparable."_ He is waiting, too, but doesn't know for what.

When he dreams that night, it is in darkness, but he hears something soft, far-away:  _who has the will?_

* * *

 

Tony arrives on the third day. There is an alien woman with him that Rocket seems to know.

"Everyone else is gone," she tells the raccoon, "but I've heard rumors about the soul gem. Maybe there's a way . . ." she trails off, looks to Tony behind her, who has yet to even look up.

" _I'm_ not done," she says, and though they have just met, Steve stands straighter for the call. "I won't be done until Thanos is dead."

Barely a memory for Steve anymore, but there it is -- "I don't want to kill anyone; I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from."

"Our priority is reversing what's been done. If Thanos is killed in the process, well, that's collateral I'm willing to take. But we need a plan bigger than 'kill Thanos.' You willing to stick around and help us come up with one?"

Nebula thinks about it, longer than Steve anticipated, but at Rocket's prodding, she agrees. When Steve takes his eyes off of her, he finds Tony's eyes on  _him_. 

"Peter is dead," Tony says. Steve has never heard him so soft, defeated, not even in Siberia. "You think you can fix it?"

"I think we can try," Steve settles on. He doesn't mention Bucky, but they do fill Tony in on the others when they compare notes that third night.

This was the catalyst they were waiting for, Steve thinks -- a man of iron and a woman in blue. It's almost laughable except: she has a metal arm.

 


	2. Chapter 2

They plan on the fourth day. Shuri has holed herself up in her lab with Vision’s body, but Okoye and some of the Dora Milaje join what’s left of the Avengers to talk strategy. Thor can get them almost anywhere, but the needs to know where he is going and, for now, they don’t. Nebula has some ideas, but they’re not ready to go off half-cocked against the most powerful being there has ever been.

“Besides,” Thor reminds them in a voice even older than his 1500 years, “our priority is to save who we can.” As much faith as he has that the actions of the soul stone can be tampered with, a crushed throat is a crushed throat, a stabbed heart is a stabbed heart, and those he wishes for are long gone. Their deaths will fuel him to seek life for the others.

Rhodey has an arm slung around Tony, as if one will fall without the other, and maybe it’s true – Pepper is gone; Happy is running things with the board and dodging most personal calls, “I wish you would have been here for her,” is about all he can muster on the phone, so Tony stops dialing. Both Rhodey and Stark have nothing to add to the discussion, which shakes the group, but Steve forges on without their input until, suddenly:

“There was another wizard,” Tony interjects.

Steve looks him over cautiously, and he can see Natasha and Thor share a concerned glance.

“What?” Steve asks, his mind supplying nothing else.

“We went into space with Strange, the time stone guy, but there was another guy, in New York.”

“That’s right,” Bruce says. “His name was Wong. When Heimdall beamed the Hulk out of the ship, I landed at their place.”

“Maybe that was by design,” Thor adds. “I have met Stephen Strange before, the man you were with. We should see if Wong can help us.”

“We should see if Wong is _alive_ ,” Natasha corrects. “I can go to New York and –”

“I’ll go with you,” Bruce says, quickly, and then cringes almost as if expecting a blow.

Natasha’s face is agonizingly blank. “Okay,” she agrees breezily. “We leave now.”

“Now?” he asks, but she is already out the door.

Steve smiles softly as Banner trips after her. Turning back to the others, he says “That’s what we can do today. See if anyone out there needs your help and get some rest. Remember, we’re guests here.”

When they leave, Steve slumps into the nearest chair. Thor pats his shoulder and goes to the lab to try and help with Vision. His hammer once gave the android life, but the hammer, too, has been another casualty for Thor along the way, and Stormbreaker is meant for much more violent ends. Axes don’t forge, and in all this electricity maybe it is Thor who has lost his spark.

Only Tony remains after a silent conversation with Rhodey. If Steve knew how to dread words anymore, he would be nervous, but there is still dirt under his fingernails that might not even be dirt, so words don’t frighten him anymore. Only the words left unsaid have that power.

“I tried to call you, once everything kicked off,” Tony says.

Steve nods. “Bruce told me when he used your phone.” He rearranges himself in the chair, leaning forward. “None of that matters now,” he says, and he means it. This is a different fight he’s in the middle of, he no longer cares about the last.

“I think it does,” Tony says. He doesn’t look angry, just empty, but Steve can feel himself bubble over all the same.

“The Winter Soldier is gone,” he says, louder than he intends, but he can’t seem to care about that, either.

Tony seems almost puzzled for a moment. “I know, Rhodes told me, but—”

“No,” Steve interrupts, “that’s not what I meant. The programming is gone; Shuri took everything they tortured into him out of his head. You wanted the Winter Soldier to die? He’s dead. The guy that turned to dust was James Barnes.”

Tony exhales harshly and shakes his head against whatever retort he wants to throw. Calmer, he says, “That wasn’t what _I_ meant, either. After Siberia, I did some digging. I found some of the files, got a look at that red notebook they took off of Zemo.” Tony pours himself a glass of whatever Wakandan alcohol happens to be sitting on the coffee table and takes a big swallow of more than just that. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. “Okay? I’m sorry.”

Steve gets up slowly, as if the man in front of him is more wounded animal than anything else, and maybe they both are. He walks over, only three strides between them, and old teammates finally embrace.

“All that matters,” Steve says, “is that we’re here and we’re going to fix this.”

“What if we can’t?” Tony asks, but Steve can barely hear the question over Sam, years ago now, telling him, “ _Some men you can’t save. Some you just have to stop.”_

He was wrong, too.

* * *

 

Steve dreams of darkness again that night. He hears children crying somewhere out in that blanket void and, over that, someone trying to soothe them. He hears the shushing, tries to seek it out or respond, but he is one with the nothingness and wakes up jarringly, sore and sweaty. Steve doesn't bring it up when he meets the others for breakfast, a dismal affair where they sit in almost absolute silence with the television muted, English subtitles scrawling across the bottom of the screen.

Bruce and Natasha come in with Wong in tow, an unflappable man who Steve can't exactly get a read on. Instinctively, he looks for Sam, only --

Steve moves on without the second opinion. They tell Wong that Dr. Strange is dead, that the handful of them, tails tucked between their legs and hiding in Wakanda, are all that's left.

"Maybe not," Wong says. "I have only dealt with the time stone, but if what I have read throughout my training is correct, then I believe our friends are not dead, but trapped. They may still be able to fight, to help us."

"The Soul World," Nebula agrees. "I've heard rumors of its existence, but Thanos used all of the stones at once to eradicate half the universe. Would the Soul World still take them?"

"We might be able to check," Wong says.

They learn about the Mirror Dimension then, essentially a place between places, and Wong believes that this dimension will help them reach this  _other_ place between places. It's half a theory at best, but Steve will take it and Thor will take it and that's who the others are turning to right now, because everyone else is worse at hiding their numbness. Steve and Thor have had practice at that, and Thor has dealt with this merging of magic and science before but, baffling enough, Wong says he will take Okoye only on this first trip through the looking glass.

"She is strong, with one loyalty to those in the Soul World, and another, equal loyalty to that in the physical realm. It will take that grounding to keep the possibility of us from passing over at bay."

Okoye is not frightened, but she and Natasha do hold hands for a brief moment, both such practical, staunch women taking solace in the strength of the other. They don't talk about what may happen -- Wong generates these orange sparks, the room holds its breath, and then they are gone, stepping through what seems like light fractals and into thin air.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everybody for reading!! Oh god this is still terrible . . . but I'm trying to have it all come together, and I promise I won't leave it without getting our people back =)

It’s beautiful to Okoye, but there is something disconcerting about seeing the others completely oblivious, looking around as if she and Wong have vanished when, in fact, she still stands where she always has. Wong tells her to stick close and not to wander, neither physically nor in her mind.

“I am a general,” she says to him, “I don’t wander.” At his shrug and small smile, she smiles in return. It is nice to have these moments with strangers, she thinks, proof that T’Challa’s belief that Wakanda could mesh gracefully with the rest of the world coming to fruition, even if the circumstances are surrounded by despair.

They seem to be moving forward; her legs are moving, these mirrors or crystals bending and warping as if they are always in motion, but she can still see the room they were – are – standing in, the Avengers still milling about, finding seats, settling in to wait for their hopeful return. Okoye can hear them talking, but it’s as if they are underwater and far away. And then, suddenly, or maybe happening so gradually at first that she didn’t even notice, her surroundings begin to darken and the others become only faded shadows. Wong stops their “progress” with a hand on her forearm, but even that too seems more shadow than man, fuzzy and vague around the edges where his hand stops and her arm begins. She looks herself over; she is this way as well.

“We are getting closer to them,” Wong says. “Our bodies in this form must be resonating at a similar frequency to the Soul World.” Wong conjures another orange symbol, using it as a flashlight as their surroundings become darker, hazier. Even just standing there, Okoye feels like she is running a marathon, her heartrate elevated and body tensed, exerting itself at a rapid pace. Though she can make out only the shape of him, she can see that Wong also seems to be sweating.

“Our bodies are not meant to be spirits,” Wong explains between breaths. “The longer we stay this close to the other side, the more our bodies will tire themselves out trying to wrestle us back to the living.”

“Which is why you can’t stay long,” she hears a voice call from the darkness, an American accent that she does not know. They look towards it to watch another orange flame of light grow accompanied by a tall man in a cloak that billows out behind him erratically. He begins to walk up to them but stumbles briefly, and another man catches him by the arm.

“Turns out, we can’t stay long either,” he says, “only for the opposite reason. We have no bodies; our souls want to be further from this border between realms.” The man shakes his head a bit, chuckling ruefully. “Wong, you have no idea how good it is to see you.”

Wong is smiling brighter than she can even imagine, even letting out a giggle before reigning himself in.

“It’s good to see you, too, Stephen. Okoye, this is Stephen Strange. With him is, um,” Wong trails off; even as they come closer, he doesn’t recognize who it is helping Dr. Strange hobble along in this dark and bare dimension.

“I know him,” Okoye says, a satisfied smile on her face. She feels a quick pang of regret – she was hoping against everything that she could see her king – followed quickly by shame at such a lack of appreciation at seeing any of them at all.

She schools her disappointment. Taking a deep breath, and willing to keep balanced herself, she says in her native tongue, “Shuri will be very disappointed you have lost that arm already, White Wolf.”

Bucky does his best to shrug an armless shoulder, embarrassed. “I have it,” he says in Xhosa, “but the Wakandan children that . . . came with us, they don’t like when I leave. They told me they feel better with a piece of me. I think it might’ve been a joke.” He laughs. “It’s a hell of a lot easier to take off than the last one.”

It seems that they cannot get any closer to each other. This is the place where the two dimensions resonate most similarly, but they are still not the same.

Dr. Strange starts up again, leaning against his accompaniment. “You’re using the mirror dimension to see us?” he asks. At their nod, he says, “That’s good, it’s stable. Where we’re at is less so.”

“Did everyone cross over?” Okoye asks quickly, unable to contain her fear that T’Challa is lost.

Bucky looks to Strange. “You good on your own?” he asks lowly, and Strange nods. To Okoye, he calls, “I’ll get him. Don’t worry.”

Okoye starts to respond, but the While Wolf has already turned his body from theirs and faded into the background, driven by the burden of a duty he does not have to carry, but will all the same. She tries not to worry about his disappearance; if they are letting him wander in this void, she reasons, he must know what he is doing.

“To answer your question,” the doctor says, “we believe everyone that Thanos wiped out is here, but it’s difficult to tell. Pockets of people were scattered – it took a long time to try and corral the people who can do something about it in one place, and it’s even more difficult to keep them there. Souls sometimes wander, especially because we are no longer tied to physical forms. We’ve found that the children, ironically, are very good at staying in one place as their souls are younger, stronger. We’re using the Wakandan children that James mentioned as a sort of base.”

“He likes to be called Bucky,” Okoye says.

Dr. Strange waves his arm as if to bat the name out of the air. “Bucky is a stupid name and I’m not calling him that.” He wipes sweat off his brow.

Bucky returns with T’Challa – even as they walk up in darkness she can tell the shape of him, and she feels something in her settle, as if in seeing him she can no believe that it can be reversed. A semblance of her strength returns even as she feels herself being drained of it; her and Wong are almost fulling leaning on each other.

“I told you, General,” he says, breathless but laughing, “it was not a place to die.”

“What do we do,” she asks these sorcerers around her, at a loss for how to behave. There is no ceremony for her to stand on here, and neither tradition nor the fight in her heart is enough now. A general knows when a strategy must be made, and she also knows when she must bow to someone else’s superior knowledge.

Wong looks to Strange, Strange just looks around. “I don’t know,” he says, “but we have to act fast. I don’t think we’re supposed to stay in the Soul World; I think it’s just a waiting room.”

“Is there any way to fight the direction you’re going? Instead of moving _forward_ from the Soul World, moving _back_ to our dimension?” Wong asks, practically swaying on his feet.

“I don’t – I don’t know,” Dr. Strange stutters.

“And we’re never going to figure it out if we all collapse now,” Bucky interjects. “Go home, Okoye. Tell Shuri, her brother is okay and that we’re on our way back. Get some rest, we’ll try to do the same, and we’ll meet whoever can come back here again to talk what comes next.”

He pulls both Dr. Strange and T’Challa with him. T’Challa gives her a Wakandan salute; she is too heartbroken from watching him fade a second time to reciprocate, and suddenly she blinks and Wong has deposited them exactly where they once were. It is dark outside now. The others look to them as if they carry answers, but she is still only lost, concerned that, for all their hope, they are only delaying an inevitable blow.


	4. Chapter 4

“I could make them out,” she tries to explain much later in the night, again and again for those who will never be able to grasp that haunted, slipping feeling she felt, “but they were vague, fuzzy around the edges, and the colors around us were muted.”

“It was like they were made of the ash and dust they disintegrated into,” Thor supplies, thoughtfully. He is staring into the middle distance.

Okoye snaps her fingers. “Yes! Exactly.”

“I have dreamt of this, I think,” Thor says. They turn to him, incredulous. He shrugs as if he can feel their eyes on him, but he is still staring into nothingness. “I saw a figure, much like you describe, kneeling. Praying, maybe. It was reciting something, but too far for me to hear, and when I tried to call out, I awoke.”

“I had a similar thing,” Tony says. “Less fuzzy people and more blankness, but, yeah. I heard something, ‘Not right.’”

“You heard something not right?” Rocket gripes. “Everything’s not frickin right, we survived past the end of the world!”

“No, you trash panda,” Tony sighs, “it _said_ ‘Not right.’ Or, ‘It’s not right.’ Something like that. The voice sounded familiar, but it was too far away. I couldn’t place it.”

Steve shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. “I dreamed something similar, too,” he says.

When Tony looks at him pointedly, he tries to recall the dream. “There was crying. I think it was kids, but I couldn’t see anything, it was just darkness.” He pauses, lost in thought. “And earlier, on a different night, I think I heard someone say, ‘Who has the will?’"

One by one, the look around at each other, huddled in a state of the art building, well-fed, well-clothed, well cared for, and still desperate, tired, broken. _Who has the will?_ they are all thinking. The dead, of course, for it must have fallen to ash with them.

* * *

 

As he is lying awake that night, wondering if he should try to summon or avoid these dreams, he hears a soft knock at the door. It is Okoye, still dressed in her Dora Milaje garb. He has never seen her without it in Wakanda, a security blanket for her as much as his shield once was for him. She is smiling, barely, and Steve has a fleeting and ridiculous notion that her smile may be made of stronger material than the armor she is clothed in.

“I didn’t tell you before in front of the others, because I didn’t want to cause any uproar, but I saw him. Sergeant Barnes – I saw him.”

Steve stares at her for a long time. Okoye doesn’t move, barely breathes, waiting for his reaction. In the end, there is none. He has had to process Bucky’s presence and subsequent painful absence so many times that he simply does not anymore, and Okoye can see it clearly in his eyes, the way her women sometimes look when they have lost too much that their souls have begun to drown with it.

“He was in good spirits,” she says, “helping the sorcerer that Wong knows. I think he is helping take care of the children, too.” She breathes deeply and takes a step back, readying herself to leave. “They are only gone for now, Captain,” she says, parroting his words from earlier, from so long ago now.

He blinks, slowly, and nods, coming back to himself in a way. “Gone for now,” he repeats. “Thank you, General.”

Her duty here is done. She leaves him to the night and continues on to her own room, which has felt empty for longer than this whole mess – an absence she knew would linger but did not expect to compound itself so soon – and tries to feel like a general again, instead of one more wayward Wakandan waiting for her king.


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, there is a welcome if unexpected addition at breakfast – Shuri. As queen, and without her brother and mother, she has become reserved and serious in a way that the people who know her are shocked by. But what exactly is she to do? The weight of the world firmly on her shoulders, the plans her brother made still turning along with it, smothering her in a way that her work never did before. She has been hardened, aged. Steve recognizes it from Azzano, from the boys he helped to pull out of fire and hell, and especially from Bucky, who followed him into the jaws of death, who he, too, tried to follow into death and failed.

He wishes Bucky were here to help Shuri back to herself. He was always so good at leading the way – the papers used to never get that right.

She is here because they are running out of time in more ways than one.

“The United Nations believes that, with the Avengers only working out of Wakanda, the world is unprotected from threats that are cropping up in the settling chaos.”

“So Ross is cool now with his proclaimed fugitives?” Rhodes asks, scoffing.

“Betty didn’t make it,” Bruce says. He keeps his eyes down. “Natasha and I checked when we were in New York. That’s enough to change an old man’s mind.” Natasha brushes her fingers across his at their sides; they lace their pinkies together like schoolchildren.

“I don’t want you to go, and I won’t kick you out, but I’m inclined to agree with them. We may want to think about splitting you all up.”

“Or moving our timetable,” Rocket says. “Splitting everybody up didn’t seem to work so good last time.”

She ignores Rocket, only really has eyes for Natasha and Steve, the two her brother seemed to respect and trust above all. “I believe I am close to bringing Vision back, and we have repaired his body should we able to do so. At the very least, Thor should be here should his electricity be the catalyst once again.”

“The doc and I can help you with that too, you know,” Tony says, “if you want more cooks in the kitchen.”

It looks as though she is physically restraining herself from rolling her eyes. The Dora next to her leans down to whisper something in her ear in Xhosa, and she lets out a peal of laughter unexpectedly, as shocked herself as the room around her that she could laugh at all.

Eventually, she settles on a shrug. “As long as you know your limits, you can help.”

Tony gapes for a second, but is cut off by Bruce’s acknowledgment and gratitude. Rhodey quite visibly elbows Tony on his second attempt at a retort and he lets the matter go.

“I believe we should return to this mirror dimension before we make any decisions on who is going where,” Thor says, “and I’d like to be the one to go.”

“And what qualifies you?” Rocket asks. “If there’s even a chance Groot or Gamora or any of my team are there, _I_ should go and get them back!”

“How are we getting _any_ of them back?” Rhodes counters, exasperated. “We’re just in a holding pattern here, nothing more.”

“All the more reason for me to go,” Thor says. “I have had dreams like these before, of Ragnarök. Maybe I am more attuned to things of this nature.”

“Then I want to go with you,” Tony says. “I’m getting dreams too, and I want to see the kid.”

Steve bites his tongue to volunteer as well; he doesn’t know what he could contribute in a realm of magic, and it is not enough to just want to see Bucky with his own eyes. They have to save everyone, and quickly – his solace to curb his selfishness will be that “everyone” includes Buck, and already that thought is selfish enough. Thor doesn’t get to count his dead among the miracle, and still _he_ fights.

Thor turns to Wong, who has been sitting quietly. He is considering. Wong stands slowly and sighs. “I can take you both, but you will have to remember to keep your anchoring here. We’re still not sure what will happen should you deplete your energy. It was very stressful on the body for us and those we saw.”

“Sure, it’s a marathon, not a sprint. Got it. Can we go now?” Tony is almost dancing in anticipation, his body vibrating with his brain’s need to see the problem in its entirety, to no longer be working in the abstract.

Wong looks at him with a deadpan expression, then turns to Shuri.

“You think I want that just hanging around? Go for it,” she says. With that, Wong grabs both Thor and Stark by the arm, and they are off.

It is quicker this time, Wong notices, as if in some way their environment has become more in tune with the Soul World, or vice versa. And, as they near their edge, there are others waiting for them already.

Tony almost collapses. Dr. Strange has brought Peter with him. Behind the two of them is a figure neither Tony nor Thor can make out, but Tony could care less. He _can_ see the kid, and that’s all that matters.

He wants to be funny, maybe, or enraged. Something with power, something almost as tangible as the ash that had once curled around his fingers but he is only tired – there is nothing left except for that.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He can feel his body straining against whatever barrier lies in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Mr. Stark,” Peter says. “But, really, if you think about it, this would have happened anyway because everybody from Earth says he just snapped his fingers and half of everything got wiped out, so it was like completely random, so I don’t think –”

“We don’t have time for this,” Strange says, panting. “Have you made any progress?”

“We are trying to wake up Vision, restore him,” Thor steps in.

“That’s good,” He may be able to track the Mind Stone or even recall it back to himself from what Wanda has told us of his power.”

“You’ve seen Wanda?” Tony asks.

Strange nods. “She’s not very happy to be here without this Vision guy; sometimes it’s hard to keep her in one place, but she’s here. It’s how we knew to bring your mini-me with us – Wanda can sense who is nearing us from the other side. She told me to tell you something, but it was in Sokovian. Sounded like ‘Eat a dick,’ though.”

Tony snorts and wipes the sweat from his brow, trying to ignore how weird and _wrong_ his own body feels in this form.

Peter stumbles back for a moment, fatigued even as they just stand there, his body overstressed as his healing factor tries to fix what isn’t there. He is caught by the figure from the shadows.

“Don’t touch him!” Tony shouts, overcome. It is the Winter Soldier.

Once Peter seems okay, Bucky takes his hands off and holds them up, trying to placate the group. Strange and Thor look confuses, Peter looks downright embarrassed, but Bucky has a knowing, rueful smirk on his face – he is bitter. Even in death he cannot escape what he has done and, he thinks, even after everything it will always end in a fight.

Tony blinks back to himself sluggishly. What he said to Steve was true: he has seen and heard more than enough to know Barnes was a shell pulling the trigger, but to see him is a different story. He tries to calm himself down, to say something, but there’s nothing, and Dr. Strang is too annoyed at his own confusion and pressed for time that he cannot let this linger.

“If you can take the Mind Stone from Thanos, we believe we may be able to break the Soul Stone from this side. I have a connection to the Time Stone, and we’ve been trying to summon it here as well which would prevent him from undoing what’s been done.” Only Thor and Bucky are still standing upright when Strange looks around. “We’ve been here long enough. Wake up Vision; I know you can. Remember, Wong, don’t overexert yourself carting these yahoos around. You _can_ open the dimension and let them walk through themselves. Hell, I might not come to greet you next time – James can handle being the messenger.”

“And why is that?” Tony asks. “If you knew I was coming then why are you here? How are you _fine?_ ”

Bucky clears his throat. He is so quiet; it absolutely baffles Tony that no one is yelling, that there is no background noise. He can hear his heartbeat in his throat while he waits for the Winter Soldier to speak.

“Dr. Strange said that the soul is exerted while we’re in this form. Sam seems to think that mine’s a little stronger. He says I wasn’t using it for seventy years, so I’ve got a reserve.”

Thor, who seems to be the least affected, can sense that that may not exactly be the case, but says nothing. He knows little about this situation, and there is too much going on to wade through it now.

“Before you go,” Bucky says, coming a little closer, “I know you have every right to tell me off, but could you relay something to Steve?”

Tony sees the opportunity for an olive branch and takes it. He nods tentatively.

“The sacrifice play has always come easiest for him, even if there’s another way. Just – just let him know that sometimes it’s okay to think it through before you jump on the grenade. And tell him not to do anything stupid until I get back.”

Wong pulls them back and they collapse in a heap where it seemed they were just having breakfast. Nebula is the only one left in the room. She checks Stark over like she would a ward she has dragged halfway across the galaxy for surely, by now, he is.

“Did you see my sister,” she asks, but there is no lilt to her voice, no real question to it.

“I’m sorry,” Thor says, “we did not.”

Nebula leaves them on the floor.


End file.
